


Stand and Deliver, or, The Dandy Highwayman

by A_Little_Boosh_Maid



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: 18th Century, Adventure, Alternate Universe - Historical, Highwaymen, M/M, Queer History, Romance, kind of a Blackaddery sort of history, no real timeline or anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-12 20:32:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18454118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Little_Boosh_Maid/pseuds/A_Little_Boosh_Maid
Summary: Being the true History of Vince Noir, King of the High Toby, and Prince of the Land Pirates, and his surprizing Adventure with a learned Nobleman on the Moors of Yorkshire. Devised for the edification and diversion of Ladies and Gentlemen by 'A Little Boosh Maid', Author of "Married on the Morrow" &etc.





	Stand and Deliver, or, The Dandy Highwayman

**Author's Note:**

> I'm the dandy highwayman  
> Whom you're too scared to mention  
> I spend my cash  
> On looking flash  
> And grabbing your attention 
> 
> Stand and Deliver – Adam Ant https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4B2a6l6wM2k

Sir Howard Moon sat in his coach on his way from his country estate in Yorkshire to his mansion in London. Opposite him was the person of which Sir Howard was most fond, and was so partial as to believe in his secret depths they were the loveliest of their kind on the face of the earth. To others, he would only admit that their big blue eyes sparkled with intelligence, and their dark locks flowed over their shoulders like a shining river. Out of all his vast fortune, this was the treasure closest to his heart, and a jewel which he loved like no other.

"Papa, are we nearly there yet?", asked the jewel.

"No Lizzie, it will take days. London is many miles away", replied Sir Howard. "You know London is the capital of England, but what is the capital of France?".

"It is Paris, Papa".

"Very good. And how would we get to France from England?".

"On a boat?", Lizzie suggested.

"Yes my dear, but via which waterway?".

"Oh – we would go across the English Channel!".

"And what do the French call it, Lizzie?".

"The ... French Channel?", Lizzie hazarded.

"No, they have begun to call it _La Manche_ , which means 'the sleeve'", her father informed her.

"Like the sleeve on my dress?", giggled Lizzie.

"Exactly so. When we get to our London house, I will show you a map of the Channel, and you can see how it is shaped like a sleeve".

And thus to distract his daughter and keep her occupied, Sir Howard kept talking to her of faraway places, many of which he had visited in his younger days. He hoped that when Lizzie was grown up and had become an accomplished young lady, she would travel with him, and he could show her the world – not only on charts and in books, as he did now, but in reality.

It was for this purpose that he insisted that Lizzie be educated, because he would need an assistant and secretary on his travels, and so Lizzie, at age twelve, had tutors in mathematics, natural history, and Latin, as if she had been a boy; he taught her English, geography, and history himself. It shocked many of his neighbours, and even the people on his estate grumbled, but he had no use for a daughter who knew nothing but needlework and how to carve meat for the table.

He hoped that Lizzie's mother would have approved of her upbringing, but as she had died in the travail of childbirth, her opinion could not be given, and as she and Sir Howard had been barely married a year at the time of her demise, it was difficult to even guess as to what it might have been.

Lady Selina Moon had been very young, and extremely beautiful, with eyes blue as a midsummer's day, and hair the colour of starlight. The fact that she was not a lady by birth had at first given Sir Howard doubts, for Selina was the daughter of a wool merchant, but he found her more refined and better read than many a noblewoman, and she brought with her a large fortune.

For Sir Howard, though heir to a dukedom, had been inconveniently poor, and a rich wife, especially a very young and extremely beautiful one, wasn't to be sneezed at. Her death had left him a sincerely grieving but conveniently wealthy widower, and he had never remarried. The sentimental said it was because he was still in love with the memory of his late wife, while the brutally pragmatic said he had no need to marry again, he had made so much money on his first throw of the marital dice. It must be said that there was a certain amount of envy amongst the brutally pragmatic.

In fact, both groups had it wrong. Sir Howard, finding that his sweet Selina had left him something more precious than any fortune, his daughter Elizabeth, was mostly afraid that a second wife would try to usurp her place in his heart, and interfere with his plans to bring her up as an educated gentlewoman. He never said it, even to himself, but no doubt a second wife would have also made it difficult for him to travel the world, which was what he most wanted to do.

************************************************************

The day wore on, and Sir Howard's coach began travelling along the lonely roads which crisscrossed the moors.

"Why do we go to London, Papa?", asked Lizzie, who already found the journey tiresome.

"You know it is for the Season, so that we might see the city at its best", said Sir Howard.

"I believe that gentlemen wish to meet pretty ladies during the Season", said Lizzie archly.

"I already have the company of the prettiest lady in England", said Sir Howard with his usual gallantry. "No, we will have people like Lord Bainbridge to tea or dinner, perhaps".

Lizzie didn't look pleased. Lord Bainbridge affected great amusement at the fact she was being educated, and treated her as half experiment, half trained monkey.

"I do not like Lord Bainbridge. And his servant frightens me", she complained.

"Now, now, Lizzie. Lord Bainbridge is the president of the London Explorer's Club, with many a thrilling story to share", her father rebuked her. "And Mr Fossil is a little peculiar, but perfectly harmless. He is not exactly a servant, but Lord Bainbridge's trusted assistant".

Lizzie curled her lip. She believed she understood Mr Fossil rather better than her father. There had been an incident ... but Mr Fossil had come off second best, for despite her demure little smile, Lizzie knew how to bite hard.

"Will not the coachmen get cold when we drive at night, Papa?", asked Lizzie anxiously.

"Naboo and Bollo are very hardy", Sir Howard assured her. "And it is not that cold at this time of year. When we spend the night at an inn, Naboo and Bollo will be given a hot meal and a bed for the night. Never fear, Lizzie – I do not mistreat either my horses or my men".

Sir Howard's coachmen also caused gossip in his neighbourhood, for he had met them in foreign climes, and brought them to England. Bollo was a great hulking hairy blackamoor who dressed always in furs and ran on leathery bare feet, summer and winter; Sir Howard had found him in darkest Africa. And Naboo was some sort of Parsee, except that Sir Howard always smiled, and said he was a from little farther away than either India or Persia.

However, this was the eighteenth century, when eccentric aristocrats abounded, and having Bollo and Naboo in his employ didn't rate as even slightly weird to the wider world. Unless you held tea parties for huge numbers of cats and dogs, rode a bear around your home, decided to live underground like a mole, swam in the sea as if you were a fish, or ate giraffe for breakfast, nobody of any consequence gave two figs.

******************************************************************

The sun set as the coach drove across the moors, and Lizzie looked out the window at the darkening landscape, for the first time showing some interest at the world outside the coach.

"Do highwaymen ever come on to these moors, Papa?", she asked.

"They do, but you need not be afraid, Lizzie. It is a full moon tonight, and highwaymen need the cover of darkness for their foul deeds", said Sir Howard.

"I am not afraid, Papa. I think it would be so exciting to meet a real highwayman", said Lizzie, her face alight. "I may as well confess Papa: it is my dream to marry a highwayman, and ride with him all over England".

"I disapprove of this romanticisation of common criminals", said Sir Howard sternly. "And I do not want you marrying anybody. You will be travelling the world with me, not running around a scrubby old heath with some jackanapes. From where did you get this foolish notion?".

"All the girls in our neighbourhood and on our estate are devoted to the highwaymen", said Lizzie eagerly. "It is all the fashion, Papa".

"What, sensible girls like Susan and Alice from the Grange, and Jane from the Vicarage?", said Sir Howard in horror, for he had thought them suitable companions for his little Lizzie.

"Yes, Papa. We are collecting all their miniatures, and mine is the largest collection. Look!".

Lizzie rifled through her luggage, and drew out a leather sack, which she opened to display a number of little portraits.

"Here is Claude Duval; he is old-fashioned now, but so romantic. And Swift Nick, who made such a daring ride to York; think on it! Captain Gallagher, from Ireland, and Galloping Dick, still on the run. There is the Wicked Lady, Katherine Ferrers – Jane is a great admirer of hers. And this is _my_ favourite".

Lizzie showed the picture of a striking young man with black hair tied into a short ponytail, dressed in a dazzling manner, and with heavy kohl around his blue eyes.

"This is Vince Noir, Papa. They call him King of the High Toby, and Prince of the Land Pirates. He is the very handsomest of all the highwaymen, and the most charming. And he is meant to have a secret code name, but nobody knows what it is".

"What is the point of a code name nobody knows?", snorted Sir Howard in disgust. "And he looks like the very blackest scoundrel".

"Oh no Papa – at least, he is both black and fair, for his hair is like a raven's wing, and his complexion white as snow".

"Put that ridiculous picture away at once", ordered Sir Howard. "I am very disappointed in you, Lizzie. I thought you the most intelligent girl of your age, and here I find you acting the saddle-goose over a motley collection of knaves and villains".

Lizzie put her miniatures away, and took out an illustrated pamphlet entitled _The True History of Vince Noir, Being the Genuine Life of that Notorious Robber, Otherwise Known as the King of the High Toby_. She flipped through it with a mutinous air.

"Well Papa, I still find Vince Noir a fascinating man, whatever you say. And I hope that we may meet him on this very moor!".

"That is very foolish of you, Lizzie. Highwaymen are dangerous and cruel, and I already told you that you will not encounter one on the night of a full moon. Not to mention, our loyal Naboo would alert us to his presence in plenty of time for us to make our escape".

At this moment, the coach came to an abrupt stop, and they heard a merry voice call out, "Stand and deliver! You're being held up, mates".

********************************************************************

"It's a highwayman Howard, you tarrydiddle", Naboo said calmly, his turbaned head suddenly appearing in the window. "Probably should have said something earlier, yeah?".

Sir Howard's face was white with fury, and Lizzie's cheeks flamed pink in excitement.

"Naboo, you and Bollo get to safety at once", barked Sir Howard. "That is a direct order".

"Way ahead of you, Harold", said a gruff voice in the distance. They looked back to see the ape disappear over the horizon, carrying Naboo in his arms.

"Looks like it's just you and me", said a genial voice at the window. "Or rather, you and you and me". The man poked his pale, interesting face through the window, and grinned at Lizzie.

"And who might you be, young lady?", asked the highwayman.

"Lady Elizabeth Selina Georgiana Araminta Louisa Moon", said the girl proudly, holding out her hand. "But you may call me Lizzie".

"Nice to meet you, Lizzie", he said, solemnly shaking her dainty hand. "I'm Vince Noir, King of the High Toby, Prince of the Land Pirates, and this is my noble steed, Brown Bob". He made a chirruping noise to his horse, and patted it.

"Oh Mr Noir", cried Lizzie. "I am your greatest devotee, and have long desired to make your acquaintance.

"Wish granted", said Vince Noir with a wink at her. "Can't blame you, I _am_ devastatingly handsome, and impossibly charming. All the pamphlets say so".

"How dare you speak to my daughter, you blackguard", growled Sir Howard. "I shall come at you like a northern musket ball, sir".

"Good evening Sir Howard", said Vince Noir, tipping his cocked hat in Sir Howard's direction.

"You know my Papa?", asked Lizzie in an awed voice.

"As an experienced thief, of course I know the richest landowner in the county", drawled Vince Noir. "And I know exactly what he's worth, and all".

"You have had your amusement with us, Mr Noir", said Sir Howard coldly. "Kindly leave us in peace, and here is a guinea for your insolence".

He flung a gold coin at the highwayman, who made no move to catch it, so that it fell to the floor with a thud.

"I am not your punk", said Vince Noir, and there was a chilly edge to his voice now. "I have no wish to take your money, Sir Howard. I ask only for a kiss, to send me on my way".

Lizzie looked as if she might faint with joy, no doubt imagining retelling this story many times over to Susan, Alice, Jane, and all the girls on the estate.

"You will never assault my daughter with your lips", said Sir Howard in a rage. "She is but twelve summers old! Begone, you addlepated vagabond, and be grateful I do not take weapon against you".

"Oh no", grinned Vince Noir. "It is not the young lady's lips I want, Sir Howard. I am asking for a kiss from you, and from you only".

He raised his pistol, and pointed it straight at Sir Howard Moon.

***************************************************************

"Do not hurt my Papa", begged Lizzie pitifully, but not without a sense of drama. "If you shoot him, I will be left an orphan, and my life empty and worthless without him".

"It's alright, Lizzie", said Vince Noir gently. "Your father will do the sensible thing. He always does".

Sir Howard slowly got out of his seat, and climbed down from the coach so that he stood next to Vince Noir's horse.

"Lizzie my dear", he said to his daughter. "I am going into that grove of trees with Mr Noir, in order to pay him what he is due. Please turn your face away. I do not want you to see your father ... humiliated".

Lizzie made a disappointed noise, but she was an honourable girl, and obediently looked out the opposite window. Vince Noir got down from his horse, and told it to remain where it was.

He and Sir Howard walked to the grove of trees in silence. Off his horse, the dashing Vince Noir was a slight man of middling height, noticeably smaller than Sir Howard, who was over six feet tall, and strongly built.

The two men reached the grove, which Sir Howard hoped was out of sight of the coach.

"So why do you really want to see me?", said Sir Howard stiffly. "My servants have run away, and my daughter cannot hear us. You may speak freely".

"I told you, I want a kiss", said Vince Noir with a little smile.

"Surely there are enough women willing to kiss the charming Vince Noir", said Sir Howard, his voice tight and strained.

"I have kissed enough wenches for a lifetime", said Vince Noir.

"Then some handsome young popinjay", suggested Sir Howard.

"I have no interest in a handsome young popinjay. What I want is a tall Yorkshireman, some duke of limbs with a scrap of a moustache, and little brown eyes", said Vince Noir. "I'm looking for a kiss from a man who is so freakishly unfashionable as not to wear a wig, who has no need to paint his face, no courtly manners at all, and wears the clothes of a generation or more ago".

"You must have been dropped on your head by your wet nurse when a babe", said Sir Howard sourly.

"You forget that babes born in the Shoreditch Road do not usually have wet nurses", said Vince Noir with a wry smile. "And those that do, generally do not live to tell the tale".

"I beg pardon of you, sir", said a chastened Sir Howard, ashamed of his thoughtlessness.

"Make it up to me with a kiss", said Vince Noir softly, taking a step towards Sir Howard.

Sir Howard didn't move. He stared at the younger man, his face pale in the moonlight, with enormous blue eyes that gave the illusion of lighting up the darkness. He was more than just the handsome dandy of the pamphlets and miniatures; he had a sharp, unexpected face that was almost ugly, except for the fact that it was the most beautiful one Sir Howard had ever seen.

Sir Howard licked his lips, either in anxiety or anticipation, and Vince Noir stepped so close to him that their faces were almost touching. He looked at Sir Howard questioningly, and received the smallest nod in reply, before he reached up and gently placed his lips against those of the older man. Sir Howard felt their warmth, their surprising tenderness; the kiss both commanded and yielded in equal measure. A tongue tip like velvet played with his own, as if in teasing promise of further delights.

Sir Howard made a sound of longing deep in his throat, and he put his arms around the highwayman, kissing him with a passion and intensity he had never known with another. And then they were no longer Sir Howard Moon the duke and Vince Noir the highwaymen, they were just Howard and Vince, and they said each other's names in little gasps between kisses, touching each other's bodies and moaning with yearning and pleasure commingled.

*****************************************************************

"Oh yeah. What's my code name?", said Vince, his head tucked into Howard's shoulder as if he never intended to move it from thence.

"It is _Adamant_ '", said Howard crossly. "You are meant to ask for the code name _before_ you kiss me, jingle brains".

He ran his fingers through Vince's hair, and pulled it out of its ponytail. He left the little baubles and ribbons in the hair, which took his fancy.

"I forgot", giggled Vince. "Good job pretending you were angry with me in the coach, by the way. I almost felt scared".

"Little of the thespian's art was required of me", replied Howard drily. "Why on earth would you seek a meeting when I had Lizzie with me?".

"You're going to go full Bedlam on me, Howard, but I didn't remember you had your daughter with you this time. You never did before".

"She was too young to go to London ere this. And in the name of all that is holy, why are you out on the night of a full moon? I have told you before, ride only in darkness", lectured Howard.

"I've never managed to really understand how to use an almanac", admitted Vince.

"How have you not been captured?", cried Howard in despair, holding his arms tight around Vince as if to protect him.

"Luck of the French", said Vince with a guilty smile.

"So lucky enough to eat frog's legs and get a guillotine in the neck?", scoffed Howard.

He knew full well that Vince had chosen his highwayman name in honour of his French grandmother, and that his name at birth had been only Vincent Fielding.

"Hold your tongue, or put it to better use", said Vince, as he pulled Howard in for another kiss.

"I must go, Vince", said Howard, still kissing his lover's neck with little bites. "I have Lizzie waiting for me; we have no time for our usual sport".

"Mm, I know", said Vince sadly. "I must wait for my backgammon".

He pressed himself against Howard, squeezing in tight until he at least knew that Howard wanted their usual love games.

"Flaunting hussy", murmured Howard, kissing him on the cheek. "Fetch me my servants so that I can continue my journey unmolested. I do not know what I am going to tell Lizzie".

"Howard, don't you think it's time we shared our secret with her?", asked Vince.

"Have you gone mad, Vince?", asked Howard. "Share a secret that would end with both of us swinging on a rope?".

"Howard, this is the eighteenth century", said Vince. "The Age of Enlightenment, an age of reason and individual rights. Our queen has a female lover, if not two. The queen's emissary is a man who wears women's clothing. And people have grown tired of the moral crusades against men following their true natures with one another".

"Well, perhaps we could be discreet about it", said Howard. "Lizzie needs a new riding master ... and she is an affectionate child, who would want you to become part of the family, as it were. There is only one problem".

"What is that?".

"Lizzie wishes to marry you".

"I think she will prefer to have me in her household, and to order me about, in a way a lady can never do with her husband", grinned Vince. "But is it not strange, the world we live in, that would permit me to marry your twelve year old daughter, but would not allow me to marry you?".

"I would never give my consent to Lizzie marrying anyone at her age", said Howard firmly. "People will think there is something dashed queer about a duke taking up with his daughter's riding master at all, but then, this is the age of eccentric aristocrats. One more shall make no difference".

"May I see you in London, Howard?", asked Vince.

"Every day, if you wish it", said Howard boldly. "And here – take this as a token, so that I may always know you, no matter in what disguise I find you".

He fumbled in his pocket, and took out a diamond ring, which he placed on Vince's finger, before kissing it reverently.

Vince smiled, and kissed Howard again, slowly, lingeringly. It was a strange moment in a queer century, when a duke gave a diamond to his highwayman paramour, unable yet to proclaim the love that he felt. Their situation was too precarious for that. Besides, Howard had been married to Selina for months before he felt comfortable enough to say anything more romantic to her than _I hold thee in the highest esteem, fair lady_.

***********************************************************************

Back in the coach, Lizzie was peeping through the window at what was transpiring in the moonlit grove. She was an honourable girl, but twelve year olds can't be expected to look in the opposite direction forever.

She smiled to herself, looking forward to the day when she could travel the world with her father, the person she loved best, and with Mr Noir, the man she admired above all others. And Naboo and Bollo must come too, they could do nothing without them.

Lizzie calculated there probably wasn't more than three or four years to wait, and they would all have to be patient until then. Lizzie was a clever girl, and she knew how to keep a secret, but Papa and Mr Noir would need to be careful.

She still hadn't given up on her ambition of marrying a highwayman. Lizzie didn't see why Papa should be the only one in the family to have a highwayman, and once she got back from her world travels she could set about meeting one.

Lizzie began thumbing through a pamphlet with a ballad written on it. There was _something_ about Dick Turpin; she couldn't put her finger on it, but she had to admit she found him decidedly attractive. She wondered if Vince could possibly introduce her to him ...

**Author's Note:**

> How to carve meat: such a necessary skill that aristocratic girls had special tutors for it.
> 
> Better read: wealthy middle class girls like Selina were more likely to be educated than their upper class counterparts. 
> 
> Parsee: a Zoroastrian Indian, of Persian heritage
> 
> Eccentrics: Refers to Francis Egerton, Jack Mytton, the 5th Duke of Portland, Lord Rokeby, and William Buckland; not all from this century, and the last one not an aristocrat
> 
> High Toby: highwaymen on horseback (low Toby were on foot)
> 
> Tarrydiddle: testicle
> 
> Guinea: 21 shillings, about 300 pounds in today's money
> 
> Punk: a cheap whore, especially a homosexual one
> 
> Popinjay: a dandy, a fop, especially one who is cocky and full of himself
> 
> Duke of limbs: a tall, awkward man
> 
> Not to wear a wig: almost unbelievably eccentric of Howard; upper class men had been wearing wigs for more than a century. They were out by the end of the 18th century, so he's ahead of his time. Maybe his world travels helped him realise wigs weren't necessary.
> 
> No need to paint his face: it was common for both sexes to wear heavy make-up to cover up smallpox scars. Howard's face is unblemished, so he doesn't need it. Presumably, Vince does.
> 
> Do not live to tell the tale: babies from poor backgrounds who needed a wet nurse had an infant mortality rate of 80%.
> 
> Backgammon: bumming 
> 
> Queen has a female lover: Queen Anne is reported to have had at least two long-term passionate relationships with women.
> 
> Queen's emissary: Lord Cornbury, who allegedly wore women's dresses, supposedly because he was the representative of a female monarch.
> 
> Grown tired of the moral crusades: There was a zealous crusade against homosexual behaviour which prosecuted thousands of men for the crime of "sodomy" – not anal sex only, but any sexual activity between men - but the general population did get heartily sick of it, and there was little public support. At trial, the accused sometimes did appeal to the use of reason, personal rights, and liberty over one's own body, which made a lot of sense to others, and helped gain sympathy, so that the crusade fizzled out. (As a private couple in a relationship, Howard and Vince are unlikely to be hanged for being together – the moral zealots targeted same-sex clubs, pubs, and cruising grounds, and tended to use entrapment). 
> 
> Marry your twelve year old daughter: Girls could be married at the age of 12, but only with parental permission. Without it you had to be over 21, and most people were in their twenties when they got married. Despite Howard wanting her to remain with him all her life, Lizzie would be free to marry whom she liked once she turned 21. I would imagine poor Selina was about 18 when she wed Howard, her parents no doubt eager for their lovely daughter to marry into the aristocracy with her big fat dowry (possibly another reason Howard isn't keen on Lizzie marrying: it killed her mother).


End file.
